Happy Steve Bingo 2018
by A. X. Zanier
Summary: Short stories to fill my bingo squares
1. Six Curving Lines

**A/N:** A version of this short has been rattling around in my brain for a while now as part of my _expendable_ AU so when I saw this square on my bingo card there was no way in hell I could refuse to write it.

 **.**

 **Bingo #1 Bow Tie**

 **Six Curving Lines**

 **.**

It seemed as if hundreds of people had shown up to my little charity event. Not the couple dozen I had expected to be willing to take a look at my doodles. And we'd gone full glitz and glam. The women wearing dresses that cost more than the average person's yearly salary to the perfect fitted tuxes adorning every male in the room, including myself.

I reached up and stuck my finger between the collar and my throat yet again, convinced that it needed to be loosened.

Myla reached up and tugged my hand away, placing an outrageously priced glass of champagne in it, in what would surely be a failing effort to prevent me from fidgeting any more. "It is not too tight," Myla informed me, an amused smile on her lips and lighting up her eyes.

"I just… I guess I'm a little overwhelmed by… by all this," I tried to explain, poorly at that.

She shook her head, trying not to laugh at me. "I told you exactly what to expect and you're still surprised by the turnout. Wait till I tell you how the bidding is going."

I damn near choked on the sip of champagne. "I knew it." I'd known there to be little chance anyone would give a damn about the doodles of a man so out of sync with the current society that they'd have little interest in paying money, no matter how worthy the charity, for the artwork, well what Myls called artwork adorning the walls about us.

"Knew what?" She curved her arm about mine and encouraged me into motion. We made our way through the room, me still kind of ogling everything. I'd participated in a few other charity events, though as Captain America instead of Steve Rogers. Superheroes brought in the money and I had volunteered at any number of events for causes I believed in. It hadn't been until after some discussions with Myla that I realized that I didn't have to go through others to do these good deeds, I could simply create and back my own charity.

Myls had caught me doing some fumbling research on the matter and, after a couple of discussions with Pepper, who put me in contact with the right people to get me started, the Steve Rogers Foundation had been born. Once I had the solid base I needed, the revenue stream became the next major hurdle. So over dinner one night I brought up the subject of selling my art to Myla who had suggested previously that she could arrange a showing with ease.

I had scoffed at the time, but with little more than a raised eyebrow, she gave me a quick rundown of what would be required. Then she gave me the number to an agent she knew and trusted.

At the time I hadn't questioned how or why she had any clue about art or high-end charity events, I'd simply taken full advantage of her knowledge.

And now, as I had expected, the whole grand plan was falling apart at the seams.

I sighed softly. "Knew this was a stupid idea."

She shot me a confused look.

"Oh, not the charity. I want… need to do that, but this." I waved a hand about at the one-percenters we strolled by like a lost antelope through a pride of hungry lions. Most turned to look at us as we moved past them all polite nods and smiles. A few pulled Myla in close for a quick word or two, many of which praised the success of the event. I had a rough idea of how much it had cost to host this showing and seriously doubted we'd make enough money back on the artwork to cover even a quarter of it.

"This what?"

Even with the interruptions and side conversation, she had no problems continuing our personal discussion.

We stopped in front of the drawing that had been made the centerpiece of the show. Not my choice, others including my agent, Pepper and Tony had all insisted this be the focal point. I had no clue why since I considered the piece unfinished. A simple charcoal drawing, and that barely. A total of six curving lines that when you squinted just right resolved itself into a woman sleeping on a bed. One arm curved about an unseen pillow, hair blending into the curve of a back, her face in profile, the sheet low enough to show the rise of her buttocks.

Yes, Myla had been the model and dead asleep when I'd sketched one late night I'd returned from an op and she'd welcomed me home in the best way possible.

"This," I reiterated. "The… art. I knew it wouldn't bring in nearly enough."

She broke out into hysterical laughter.

All nearby eyes turned to her at the even to my ears inappropriate sound for the hoity-toity venue. However, when they realized who precisely had been throwing protocol out the window, through the glass no less, just simply shook their heads and smiled before returning to their conversations. Pretty much everyone who had chosen to attend this event knew Myla if only indirectly.

And I had no idea how.

Not that it really mattered.

"Myls, what the hell is so funny?" It seemed reasonable to me to be at least a smidge upset that this grand idea had failed so horribly.

"Steve," she somehow managed around a snicker, "you really have no clue do you?"

I scowled, or tried to, it was hard to be upset when she still laughed, real humor in her eyes and demeanor.

"Come here, you." She tugged me towards the tablet mounted on the wall next to the drawing, blending in almost perfectly with the wall so as not to detract from the artwork itself. "You understand how the auction works yes?

I nodded. We'd chosen a silent auction style. Bids placed on a list – the tablet – and the highest one at the end of the night would take home the prize. Apparently, an app made it even simpler as you could literally check the bids and up your personal one at any time discreetly. No making it obvious you wanted a piece of artwork by standing in front of it and announcing your intentions.

I shifted to take a look at the current high bid on the tablet and blinked. Twice.

I recounted the number of zeroes.

"Holy shit," I muttered under my breath. "That can't be right."

"It is," she assured me. "I feel like I should say 'I told you so', but I'll wait until the final tally has been completed."

"Gee, thanks. I think."

She shook her head. "How can you have so little self-confidence in your work?"

I frowned slightly, my eyes turning to the piece before us that to me still seemed incomplete. "They're paying for the name," I groused. "They'd pay through the nose for a used handkerchief of mine."

She snorted at the unintentional pun I'd stuck in there. "Not these people. Trust me. These are not fanboys, they're art connoisseurs and want pieces that will gain in value. Yes, your name and the charity got them in the door, but they would not put money down on these pieces if they had no real interest in them. They'd just write a check and schmooze." She shifted to stand before me, a look of pure honesty in demeanor. "Every drawing in here has a five-figure bid or better on it. This one might very well break seven before all is said in done."

I closed my eyes for a long moment trying to absorb those words. People really liked my art? And were willing to pay through the nose for it?

Her hand on my cheek got me to open my eyes. The most intimate contact we'd indulged in the entire evening. We'd both had concerns about advertising our relationship. The paparazzi may have been banned in here, but several professional photographers wandered about taking photos. A pic of me kissing Myla would probably net them a whole lot of money and make the front page so we took all due care to come across as no more than coworkers and friends.

I'd be thanking her later when we got back to the suite at the hotel.

Cameras flashed, but she didn't seem to care. "Steve Rogers is one hell of an artist and deserves every accolade he will receive tonight. Got me."

I swallowed hard. The earnestness in her voice, her eyes. I don't know how I kept forgetting that she saw me, not Captain America, at all times. "Got it."

She grinned and I could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted to kiss me. I leaned down and she kissed me on the cheek. "Come on. Time to press the flesh and talk up all the good this money is going to do for kids in Brooklyn."

"Aw do I have to?" I faux-whined. I actually enjoyed talking about the plans I had for this charity.

"Yes, you do." She tugged me into motion, heading towards an older couple who had been casting glances in our direction for several minutes.

With a smile I resigned myself to the suffering through the conversation with complete strangers knowing, in the end, it would be worth it with Myla by my side.

 _._

 _finis_


	2. Pros & Cons

**A/N:** So once again the bingo square fit perfectly for another _expendable_ short that had taken up residence in my brain.

.

 **Bingo #2 Apartment Hunting**

 **Pros and Cons**

 **.**

Steve: _Tonight?_

Myla: _Ugh. Maybe. I have op prep. Can spare an hour._

Steve: _We need to decide_

Myla: _:p then don't sched me on ops_

Steve: _Not me this time. Blame Hill._

Myla: _I will be certain to show her my displeasure for impinging upon my personal life :_

Steve: _LOL let me know when so I can get it on video._

Steve: _2000?_

Myla: _Tac review. 2130?_

Steve: _Meeting with Hill. Probably about your op I now realize_

Myla: _Oh dark hundred it is then._

Steve: _Sleep?_

Myla: _I'll sleep when I'm dead._

I handed her a cup of liquid consciousness after she flopped down onto the cushion next to me. She'd already changed into what she considered sleepwear, just tossed one of my sweatshirts on over it in deference to the cooler temps I preferred in my rooms. I'd also prepared food, and by that meant I'd raided the Compound's kitchens for all her favorite late night snacks.

She grunted in thanks, took a sip, then leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek. "So where are we?"

I leaned forward, flipped open the file folder and spread the sheets of paper within across the coffee table she currently had her feet on. Not that we really needed the physical images to remember any of them. The act of going through them of more importance as a way to be together in this decision. "We've got a dozen options here." I pulled out one, a condo in Boston. "Yay or nay?"

"Nay," she stated. "It was nice but way overpriced for the area."

I nodded slowly in agreement. Not that we couldn't afford it but she had a point. "Agreed." I held up the next one. "The farmhouse."

"I like that one. It's far enough from the Compound they won't be knocking on your door, but close enough we can get there even by car within a reasonable amount of time."

"And there's more than enough room to land a quinjet in the backyard if needed." Yes, I'd stolen the idea from Clint. Not that at that time I ever expected the opportunity to live in a house with a woman I loved, but I'd take full advantage of it now that it had presented itself.

"So, yes?"

"Yes," I agreed setting it aside in our 'definitely maybe' pile.

We whittled down the list one by one resulting in three finalists. Farmhouse. Beach front-ish down near Hilton Head. Her personal pick and that we'd taken a look at when she'd kidnapped… abducted me for a much-needed vacation last summer. I'd liked the area well enough, and more, liked that the locals wouldn't much care if another rich and famous moved into the area. The place modest compared to the McMansion we'd stayed in, but far enough from neighbors to give us the privacy we needed.

The last my pick. A converted warehouse apartment. Condo technically since we'd be owning not renting. Huge though. An entire half of a top floor with actual views over the river and right on the edge of my old stomping grounds in Brooklyn.

Guess I could afford to live there.

I shoved the others back into the folder and left our top three on the table.

Myla settled back into the cushions and tipped over to lean against my shoulder.

"Tired? We can make a final decision later."

"I'm good. Pros and cons of each."

I shifted to reach for a pen and she snickered. I think we can remember these, unless you really, really feel the need to old school this."

I glanced over at her, eyes filled with merriment. "And if I do? I mean this is a big step for us. I'd kinda like to… I don't know, do more than just remember it, I guess."

She turned her head to rub her face into my shoulder. "You are so old-fashioned sometimes."

For an instant the comment came across as disparaging but then she added, "We'll frame the winner, notes and all and hang it in the new place. How's that."

I shifted and cupped her cheeks before placing a delicate kiss on her lips. "Perfect. I want to make memories with you, Myls. Want the world to remember us as more than just Avengers. We're people too, as you so often remind me."

"Now you get sappy and romantic?" she complained, happily I presumed even though she had crinkles in the middle of her forehead that decried otherwise.

"What's wrong with now?" I'd always tried to do the romantic thing, but our jobs prevented that most of the time. The majority of our date nights involved staying home and ignoring calls while making dinner together. Always fun, but lacking the romance for the most part. "I was thinking I'd step back a bit from the whole Avenging thing. They don't need me here day to day."

She gaped at me. Literally. Eyes wide, mouth open.

I chuckled softly, impressed that I'd managed to surprise her.

"Spend more time with you."

She blinked. Her mouth shut with an audible snap. "Holy shit. You're serious."

I nodded. "Your training program has been quite effective, aside from improving the battle computer, there's little for me to do these days." I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. "Thank you for that."

She shivered from head to toe. "Well then let's get to work on this."

I grinned. "Farmhouse."

"Pro: close to the Compound. Con: close to the Compound."

I snorted. "Pro: More than enough room to land a 'jet. Con: needs updating, especially security."

"Pro: lovely views and has that sunroom that'll be perfect for you to paint. Cons: out in the middle of nowhere. We'll need to drive at least an hour just to get groceries."

A point, but a workable one. We'd been spoiled living here at the Compound where we literally could raid the kitchen for whatever we needed in our suite. If we needed something specific we simply put in a request and it magically appeared in short order.

"Still, it's peaceful, which will be a nice change of pace post-op."

"Not disagreeing, which is why it's in our top three. Next." She pulled out the pick of the beach house down near Hilton Head where we'd spent a quiet week together once I'd gotten over my abduction. Best birthday present ever. "That one has serious potential," I stated, "but my agent would get tired of beachscapes."

Myla sickered. "Too true. And all those pastels. Pro: far away from the Compound."

"Con: far away from the Compound."

She frowned slightly but nodded in agreement. "We can park a 'jet on the property, but yeah if they really need us in a hurry there's just no way to get back to the Compound fast. We'd have to keep a serious go bag on hand, which means a secure room, etc."

"Doable. Its got more than enough space to dedicate one room to work stuff."

"Except the ultimate point is to not have work stuff around." She tapped the table with one fingertip. "Maybe we can get Tony to create a southeast Avengers Compound. That would lessen our commute time."

"The Avengers aren't ready to expand. And being centralized has its uses," I pointed out.

"And disadvantages," she argued. "One small yield tactical nuke and you can take all of us out. Easy peasy."

I tapped her on the nose. "You have a very dangerous mind."

She shrugged. "Good thing I'm on your side then, huh."

I leaned in to kiss the tip of that nose. "Very good thing. I like this one, but think it might be too much vacation and not enough home."

She shrugged one shoulder, ceding me the point. "Still more than viable for our purposes. Wherever we end up it'll need updating to meet our needs. We can strip them to bare walls and rebuild the interiors if we want."

I shook my head. "I'd rather not do that simply because it'll mean more time before we can move in."

Her eyebrows bounced upwards at the determination in my voice. I wanted this, sooner rather than later. To see if we could really make this work, together, as a couple. I had passing thoughts of maybe, one day, getting down on one knee and actually proposing to her, but, with the way our lives currently stood, it wouldn't be feasible. We needed more us and less Avengers for that and _that_ would not be happening any time in the near future. Getting a place, away from the Compound, just the first of many steps on a near-infinite staircase.

I swapped the beach house for the Brooklyn location. I liked this one. Really liked this one. I fought the wave of homesickness that tried to break upon me and drown me under its inexorable tide. "This one kind of splits the difference."

"Not too close. Not too far. Though the Tower is a stone's throw away, which could make it redundant."

"You want to move into the Tower with me?" I knew her answer. Hell, knew my answer and even though she had a point, I did as well.

"Uh, no. That would be living our work even if Tony does have one hell of a bar on site."

I snickered. Tony still threw parties there and Myla had been to more than a few. But none of us stayed there much these days unless work or life had us nearby for other reasons. "Good, I don't want to either. Con: no quinjet landing other than the Tower or Central Park."

"Well, there are some nearby lots, but that'd be for emergencies only, I figured. You'd get to ride your bike more. Any of these really, but it'll be really convenient in the city."

"Cons?" I asked, really curious as to what she thought of the place.

"It's New York, so traffic, crime, noise, but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. The place has a decent security system so the upgrades will be minimal."

"And with Tower a stone's throw away we won't have any need for keeping body armor in the closet."

She laughed. "Unless you're into that sort of thing."

My cheeks instantly heated. There had been occasions where I'd been in desperate need of her post-mission and cleaning up or changing had been the furthest thing on my mind. So, while it would never be a 'thing' it had happened now and then.

She grinned at my reaction. Even after all these months, she could still make me blush and I found I didn't mind so much.

She yawned then, hugely, jaw popping audibly. She kissed me on the cheek then stood. "I'm heading to bed."

I waved at the printouts. "But which one?" Yeah, we still needed to choose one, but a glance at the clock made me realized how long just narrowing the field had taken.

She stretched her arms up over her head causing her shirt to rise up just enough to grace me with a view of the skin above her hips. "You decide."

"No. We need to do this together."

She gave me a tiny sweet smile. "We have, Steve. We like all three of them. I'll be more than satisfied with whichever one you feel works best for us."

"But–"

"No buts." She took the papers from me and set them aside, then she grasped both my hands and encouraged me to stand.

"What?" I questioned in honest confusion. "Thought you were going to bed."

"I am," she informed me. "You are going to play the part of the pillow while I catch a nap before my godawful early ass meeting."

Oh. _Oh_. "I suppose I can do that. For you." And just because I could I scooped her up into my arms, causing her to squeal in surprise and carried her off to our bed.

 _._

 _finis_


	3. Gourdian Knot

**Bingo #3 Pumpkins**

 **Gourdian Knot**

 **.**

"What the hell happened?" Hill questioned, looking aghast at our current state of dress.

I glanced down at the guts of the innocent victims still splattered liberally upon my body armor. "Uh, Doom Bots?"

"Dumb bots would be more accurate," Clint groused as he shed his armored shirt and tossed it to the floor with a decidedly wet splat.

Hill crossed her arms over her chest and did that look we all somewhat feared, even myself. "Explain."

"Well, they were definitely not up to his usual level of perfection," Nat stated as she picked bits from her hair with a grimace of distaste.

"And the man himself was a no-show," Clint added as he sat down to pull off his boots.

"Captain…" Hill prompted.

"Physical and energy weapons just bounced off their shields," I told her as I peeled off the armored jacket. "But organic material got through."

"Do I want to know how you figured that out?" One eyebrow went up on Hill's forehead but her bland expression failed to change one iota.

"One of the kids there for the punkin' chunkin' competition launched a mini-pumpkin at it," Tony offered up as he entered the room, toweling his hair dry.

"Punkin' chunkin'?"

"Yep. Kids design catapults and see who can make a pumpkin, miniature ones, fly the farthest."

Hill raised a hand to her face. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Not for a second," Nat groused. "Once we realized that enough of the damn things would short out the 'bots it turned into a free for all."

"A few of those kids had some serious aim." Tony actually sounded impressed to my ears.

"So to defeat some Doom Bots you and a bunch of kids threw pumpkins at them?" Hill sounded as disbelieving as we had been at the time.

I shrugged but felt a grin creeping its way onto my face. "It worked. A couple of good hits and they'd short out."

"Steve Rogers, are telling us you had fun?" Nat set a hand over her heart; her look that of utter shock.

Well, faux shock, anyway as she didn't even try to stop herself from overacting.

"No one got hurt and we stopped the bots with pumpkins of all things. Is it wrong for me to enjoy my work?"

Tony snorted. "You live for your work, Cap."

Hill huffed out a breath of discontent. "Damage Control units are en route. Full debrief once you've all," she gave a delicate sniff of distaste, "cleaned up." Then with a nod at me, she turned on her heel and left before she risked getting pumpkin guts and seeds anywhere near her pristine uniform.

I had to agree with Hill on that point. The cleaners would have one hell of a time getting the pumpkin guts out of the creases of the armor. But even I had to admit, that yes, I'd had fun.

 _._

 _finis_


	4. What To Do When Not Hitting Nazis

**What To Do When Not Hitting Nazis**

 **.**

"Steven Grant Rogers, what in the name of all that is holy were you thinking." **  
**

I cringed inwardly suspecting precisely why she had used that tone of voice.

"Shit," Bucky groused, clearly having been startled by Rinn's sudden appearance. "She sounds just like your mom."

That brought her up short. "Well if she'd been able to scare the stupid out of him with her voice alone we probably wouldn't be here today."

That caught Bucky's interest. "What did he do this time?"

"Oh, he knows what he did." She aimed those vibrant green eyes at me and while her body language screamed anger, her eyes gave the truth away. Clear worry buried within their depths.

Bucky's head swiveled from one of us to the other as he waited with bated breath for the punchline.

"But do you know why?"

"I'm pretty certain she said it's because you're an idiot." Bucky leaned back into his chair waiting for whatever would be coming next.

"The why doesn't matter, Steve, you've been on the goddamn fan boards that I told you to stay away from."

I huffed out a breath. Yes, she had warned me about them, and yes I understood why after a foray to some subreddits that made me concerned for the welfare of humanity as a whole. "Hattie-"

"I will have a discussion with Hattie presently. Damn it, Steve, we have PR people for a reason."

I sighed softly. "Yes, we do, and I get why, but-"

"No buts, you should not be on those boards at all. And not only are you reading but posting?"

My eyes narrowed. "And exactly how do you know I'm posting?"

She rolled her eyes and shifted so that one fisted hand rested on her hip. "Howling_commando_01? Who else could it be? Besides, I know your writing style."

I didn't bother questioning why she had been on those same boards since I knew she checked them as a matter of course. "I was careful," I explained, "and made sure I didn't give myself away."

I could see her winding up for an explosive response when Bucky took the wind out of her sails.

"Doll, maybe you should listen to him for five minutes." He glanced over at me. "He always has a good reason for doing stupid shit.

That got her dour look to crack for an instant. "Okay, I'm listening."

I didn't quite agree that the narrowed eyes and frown constituted her listening face but I forged ahead. "Okay, yeah, I maybe shouldn't have started with Reddit-"

"Or Twitter," she sneered.

I definitely agreed with that one. At least at first, but I'd figured out how to navigate the hazards that had come with the forum. She'd been right about one thing though, I'd been forced to develop a thick skin quickly.

I'd been shocked at the sheer number of people who hated me... well, Captain America just because. Literally, just because. Most... hell, none of them had any knowledge of the reasons I'd chosen the way I had about the Accords or anything else that had followed.

And they didn't seem to care.

Every single one of them seemed to know better than I how Captain America should react in any given situation without having the least bit of insight to the circumstances.

None of them seemed to remember that I, Steven Grant Rogers, for all my abilities, remained fully human.

Humans made mistakes.

Made decisions they regretted.

Made choices that could change not only their lives but those of others.

And for one small instant after reading the vitriolic words of others thought I might have made an error.

I'd taken that step back to reassess the decisions I'd made and why.

Had every single one been perfect?

Well, frankly, no.

Human, remember?

Since I could in no way change the past, I instead considered what I wanted in the future. Who Steve Rogers would be when he finally fucking grew up. Who the man in the mirror wanted to be seen as by the people around him.

Turned out to be fairly simple. I'd gotten into this because I didn't like bullies.

Seemed like it might be a good time to show the world at large what that really meant.

To do that I needed to stop hiding behind Rinn's proverbial skirts.

Yes, Nomad existed as a (mostly) separate entity from Cyko, but in truth without her, without Rinn and the fear of God she'd put into the various governments and countries who would love to swoop in and arrest us, we'd be on the run instead of living in comparative luxury with pretty much all the toys and resources we needed near to hand.

I looked at her watching me with impatience, her toes beginning to tap on the floor.

"Sit, please, and I'll show you."

Her eyes narrowed.

"C'mon, doll," Bucky stood, set a hand on her arm and escorted her to the seat next to mine. He pulled it out for her and everything. She stared at the, for us, common gesture in utter confusion then sat, him tucking the chair in expertly under her. He returned to his seat, seemingly going back the files we'd been plowing through, and pretending to ignore us.

I grabbed my tablet, returning to the home screen, then pulling up the browser. I tapped through my favorites to stop on a page Hattie had helped me create. I handed the tablet to Rinn, but said nothing, letting her judge my online activities for herself.

Her face started with a glare that quickly morphed into a look of confusion as her brows pulled in, creating wrinkles along her forehead. "This is an anti-bullying website."

"Yes," I agreed, just sitting back and waiting for understanding to dawn.

She began tapping links and found her way to the forums where howling_commando_01 had been posting a lot. "Holy shit, Steve."

Bucky's head came up. "Is that a good 'holy shit' or one we need to up our nonexistent insurance for?"

"Good," she told him. "Christ, these kids."

I nodded slowly in agreement. Social media had it's upside, by allowing connections between people who could quite literally live half a world apart from one another. It also had a dark, nasty side that permitted people to be the worst version of themselves imaginable.

At least bullying in my day had been physical. Which, sounds horrible, but your tormentor had to face you, had to be right there in order to demean and belittle you.

These days, however...

The creator of your misery could, quite literally, be half a world away.

In this case, going after the bullies would, thanks to the anonymity of the Internet, only encourage them to continue their efforts to degrade all those they chose to target, so I chose to help the victims. Gave them a safe space to talk about their problems and the means to fight back if they so wished. Resources and hotlines and counselors and, yes, law enforcement contacts since cyberbullying had become a crime in many countries.

What had begun as a half-assed idea to stand up and regain a voice had turned into something much greater than I had ever imagined. And no one had any idea who had started it.

When Rinn finally met my eyes, the worry and anger had vanished to be replaced with something far more obscure and unreadable. "You idiot," she stated softly, but with a fondness in her voice.

I gave her a wry smile. "It is what I do best."

"You and your need to do the right thing will be the death of you yet." She got to her feet.

Bucky snorted in clear agreement.

"This is important to me, Rinn."

She smiled, a real smile this time. "I know. I can see that. Just... happy?" she finally asked after a noticeably pregnant pause to choose the right word.

"As I can be not punching Nazis."

She chuckled. "Good. I'll talk to Hattie..."

I opened my mouth intending to defend the young woman who had assisted me on the sly, but Rinn's next words eased my concerns instantly.

"... about upgrading the encryption and make sure those on the site can remain anonymous. I want everyone who uses it to know with two hundred percent certainty they are safe."

I didn't know what to say. Hattie and I had shared those exact concerns and while Hattie was damn good, Rinn was still better and having her on board with this... stunned me. "Thank you."

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "You're welcome. Now get back to work. Those reports won't write themselves."

I groaned. She knew I hated writing reports no matter how necessary they were.

Bucky laughed softly at my reaction. "See you later, doll."

She gave him a grin and sauntered from the room, her mood the total opposite of when she had arrived.

"I told you she'd be on board," Bucky pointed out without even lifting his head from the tablet.

I sighed. "Yes, you did, but maybe I wanted to do this on my own. Cyko... Rinn does enough for us as it is. We won't always have her umbrella of protection. And I..."

He lifted his head to meet my eyes. "And?"

I debated finishing the statement for a long moment. "And I won't always be playing the hero, Buck. I kind of want to figure out what I might do after."

Bucky's eyes darkened for an instant. "Retire? No more fighting?"

"Peace. For us anyway."

He nodded slowly. "Someday."

Yeah. Someday.

.  
.

finis


	5. Too Early

A/N: Once again I've abused my expendable AU for this short. If I had to place it in the timeline I'd put it prior to them moving in together, mere weeks before at most.

Also, I wouldn't necessarily call this a "happy" fic, but it's definitely not angsty, more domestic fluff.

.

 **Too Early**

Bingo # 5 "You're so warm."

.

"What the hell happened?" **  
**

I rushed through the knee-deep snow toward the lake. The lake that just a few hours previous had sported a coating of ice and dusting of snow. The bitter north wind whipping across the surface and blowing the snow into the drifts at the southern end. Now I could see water, the ice cracked and broken and floating freely on the surface for a fair half the distance across it.

One of the EMTs wrapped a thermal blanket about Myla's shoulders as she sank to the ground next to the quinjet that had arrived mere moments before.

Her teeth began to chatter and she shivered violently. "Idiots had the grand idea to play hockey."

I glanced over at the group of nearly a dozen others some of whom were just as soaked as my girl. She had clearly ordered the EMTs to focus on the trainees over herself.

"Ice isn't nearly thick enough for that. Too early in the season."

She attempted to give me a glare complete with eyebrow raise, but the effect was ruined by the ice trying to form on her hair. "No fucking shit. I got here just in time to see the first two go under."

I looked her over from head to toe, realizing she'd stripped down to her shirt and pants prior to diving into the ice cold lake. Glancing at the shore I could literally see the trail of clothes she'd left in her wake as she'd probably removed them while at a full run. Boots, coat, sweater leaving a trail that made her intent clear to any one of us. She'd probably shouted her orders to the others getting them to spread out and disperse their weight as much as possible before attempting to return to shore.

I looked down to realize her feet were bare. "Where are your socks?"

She snorted then sneezed. "Bottom of the lake I imagine."

Two more 'jets settled down nearby, one of them a massive troop carrier and dozens more spilled out onto the ground trampling the pristine white snow beneath their feet.

Several members of her team headed towards us, but she waved them off. "I'm good," she assured them.

I didn't quite agree with that assessment, not yet anyway, but when they glanced my way gave them a nod to let them know I'd take care of her. Without giving her a chance to protest my actions I scooped her up and carried her away from the lake.

"Steve, what are you doing? I-"

"You are chilled to the bone and are going to lose toes if you stay in the snow for any longer."

She opened her mouth to protest but sneezed instead which seemed to be the deciding factor. "Fine."

I held her close and managed as swift a pace as possible back to my suite. She'd been spending just enough time there to have some spare clothes. "How'd you figure out where they were going?"

She shifted, resting her head on my shoulder, icy cold forehead pressed into the side of my neck. She sighed softly, "God, you're so warm."

I pulled her in closer in an effort to keep her warm as I waited on her answer.

"Stopped in the commissary for a snack between classes and heard some of the other trainees talking about it. They were getting snacks and thermoses of coffee and cocoa to take out there. I just dropped what I was doing and ran."

"Of course you did," I muttered.

She huffed out a breath. "And had FRIDAY send teams who could handle cold water rescues."

"And you couldn't wait for the teams to arrive why?"

She shifted in my arms and I heard her clothes crunch in my hold, which meant they had frozen in just the short time since she'd gotten out of the lake. "I could have, but then two of them would be in body bags instead of stripped to their skivvies and shivering under thermal blankets."

"Christ. Don't they have to know how to swim to get in here?"

She huffed out a breath. "How well do you swim in clothes, coat, boots, scarf-"

"Point taken."

She shivered violently in my arms, teeth chattering hard enough to distort her words. "Gods, I'm fucking freezing."

We'd reached the door to my suite and I shoved it open with my foot, FRIDAY having conveniently unlocked it for me. "You little fool, you just had to play the hero."

She didn't respond, just shook all the harder and I feared she'd succumbed to the cold and fallen unconscious, hypothermia clearly setting in and taking her voice from her. I rushed through the rooms and to the bathroom and set her down, flakes of ice falling from her clothes as I did so to see her laughing at me.

"What?" I asked in confusion even as I reached into the shower and turned it on, twisting the dials to the right, making the certain the water would be comparatively cold to prevent her from going into shock.

I set her down under the water her still laughing. I made certain she had her footing and started stripping down, intending to join her. The ice melted instantly, which would allow me to remove her clothes with comparative ease. The water cold on my skin, but more than tolerable with my enhancements. I helped her remove the long-sleeved shirt she wore and tossed it aside.

"The man famous for going down in a Hydra plane into the goddamned arctic and getting himself frozen for better than half a century admonishing me for diving into a lake to save two people."

I found it difficult to tell if she was actually still amused or angry at me given she sounded as if she were stuttering badly her teeth continued to chatter so hard. "You may have a point there, " I muttered as I went to my knees to get her out of the pants, she lifted her feet, hands on my shoulders to keep her balance. As soon as I had shoved them aside I stood and wrapped my body around hers, the skin to skin contact would help bring her core temperature back up safely. "I did survive that."

"But at the time you didn't know you would. You assumed you'd die saving the US from the wrath of Schmidt."

I couldn't exactly argue the point given the truth to her words. "Doesn't mean you should follow in my footsteps."

She leaned back to glare up at me and I realized her left eye had begun to turn puffy and blue, a sure sign she had earned herself a shiner during her swim. I brushed my fingers across the swollen cheekbone and she hissed in response. Least she could feel it, which meant her body temp must be returning to normal. I adjusted the water temp to slightly warmer, something just below tepid and waited for her shivering to stop.

"You act as if I have no clue what I'm doing," she groused, clearly not thrilled with my reaction to her doing her job and rightly at that. "This was by no means my first cold water dunking."

I sighed softly, taking her admonishment to heart. "I know, I just... You don't have the advantages I do." My hand hovered above her injured eye.

"Which is why I used the training I've been given and literally did everything by the book. My second rescue panicked and I took an elbow to the face. I still dragged his wet ass out of the water and to shore." Anger had noticeably begun to build under the coldly spoken words.

"I'm saying this all kinds of wrong." I kissed her on the forehead, noting her skin to still be cooler than I liked and pulled her back in close. "I was worried, is all. Not because I thought you were being foolish, but because it's you." She shivered harder for a long moment and I wrapped my arms even tighter about her running my hands up and down any bit of skin I could reach to encourage her blood to flow faster. "Trust me, you don't want the 'Capsicle' experience. It's more than a bit disconcerting when you wake up."

She snorted in clear amusement. "Well, given I'm not likely to survive it I'll endeavor to avoid being frozen outside of cryostasis, okay?"

"Okay. You ready for warmer water?"

She seriously thought about it; she'd lost the borderline lethargy that had been trying to take hold, but still seemed off to my senses. "Not yet, give it another five then we can go up." She sneezed three times. "I swear half the lake ended up in my sinuses."

I laughed reassured by that comment alone that she would be fine.

.

.  
finis


	6. Take Out

**A/N:** So I somehow managed to write Bucky channeling his inner Elliot Spencer (from Leverage) and don't hate it.

 **.**

 **Take Out**

 **.**

Bingo #6 cooking

.

The obnoxious screaming of the smoke alarm almost covered the sound of the front door opening.

"Steve?"

I sighed heavily but called back, "Kitchen. Get the window would you?" I pulled the pan from the oven, shoved it in the sink and turned on the water in hopes of dousing the smoke. "FRIDAY can you kill the alarm and up the intake flow."

" _Of course. Should I adjust the temperature to compensate for the open window_?"

I glanced over at Buck who shook his head. "Nah, we'll manage until the smoke has cleared out." I stared down at the still smoking ruins that had been the meal I'd slaved over all afternoon. "I swear to you I followed the recipe to the letter."

Bucky chuckled. "Doesn't matter, _you_ cannot cook for shit."

"Hey, I'm not _that_ bad."

"Yes, you are. There's a reason we never let you handle the food back in the day." He glanced over at my failing effort at dinner. "What was that supposed to be anyway?"

"Lasagna," I told him with a frown. "I used to campfire cook all the time for the Howlies."

He snorted. "Only when we couldn't stop you. You have no idea how many burnt on the outside yet raw on the inside rabbits we had to suffer through."

I turned off the water and spun about with a huff. "You never said anything. Any of you."

Bucky opened the fridge and began to rummage around. "Because you were the Captain, Captain, and could break us with your little finger if we made you cranky."

I frowned thinking back to those days. "Is that why you'd always send me for extra firewood?"

He didn't even bother to pretend to prevaricate. "Yes. We always had enough wood for the fire and food we could actually eat."

And I'd had absolutely no clue. "Not like you're any better," I grumbled.

"Uh, maybe not back then but..."

He dumped the armful of items on the counter. Assorted vegetables, leftover chicken from a couple days ago that had been unexciting but, you know, food. He grabbed a knife from the block and proceeded to make short work of the carrots, dicing them with a swift efficiency that shocked me. Not that he wasn't known for his knife work, I just hadn't associated it with preparing meals.

"But?" I prompted.

"Grab the big four-quart pot and fill three quarters of the way with water, would you."

I did as he asked while waiting for the reply to my question. When it failed to be forthcoming in a timely manner I cleared my throat. "Where'd you learn to cook?"

He paused the knife's movement for an instant, his shoulders hunching as if trying to hide, before he shook it off. I got it, he'd done things in his past, as The Winter Soldier, that he was far from proud of, but they were part of him still.

"Learned it for a job," he mumbled, making certain to not look at me, though that was probably also due to the sharp implement in his hands. Losing a finger not exactly an experience anyone wanted to have. He slid the carrots into the pot and moved on to his next victim.

"But you were an assassin."

He shrugged. "Not every job involved a long distance shot with a high powered rifle. Some were more... personal."

"Ah." Sometimes, some deaths committed more to make a point than eliminate a specific target. Hydra played the manipulation game well, and I suspected there had been times a target needed to be persuaded to toe the line. Eliminating someone close to them could be an effective way of doing so.

"No snarky commentary?" Bucky asked as he grabbed a clean towel to wipe down the knife. He picked up the pot and carried it to the stove, cranking the heat to bring it to a boil. He added salt and pepper then began going through the cabinets looking for something. "Don't you have any real spices?"

I gave him a wry grin. "Can't cook, remember?"

He huffed out a breath.

"I've a few in that one." I pointed to a cabinet to his right.

He found the spice set and pulled it out to discover it unopened. He shot me a look of desperation as if wondering how I had managed to survive without him. He ripped off the plastic wrapping and muttered to himself about the quality of the products within. He must have deemed them worthy as he began sprinkling them into the warming water. Realizing the smoke had cleared out I took a moment to close the window, FRIDAY adjusting the airflow in the room back to normal without my prompting.

I returned to find Buck staring forlornly at the leftover chicken. "Do you really still boil everything? Never mind I know the answer is yes." He proceeded to pull the chicken apart into chunks. "I wish you had some flour on hand, I'd make dumplings."

My eyes widened. "Dumplings. That must have been one hell of a mission."

He tipped his head to concede the point. "My handlers had a way of making sure I learned fast and retained the information in case it was needed again. There's lots of odd things I know how to do, cooking just happens to be one I sometimes enjoy using."

"I get the impression there are others you do not." He didn't talk much about his time with Hydra, so any tidbit he let spill I made note of.

"That would be accurate." Making it undoubtedly clear he would not elaborate on the matter any more tonight. He added the chicken to the pot, turned down the temperature and then set a timer. "Should be ready in about thirty."

The scents from the pot already making my mouth water. "And I was supposed to be cooking for you."

He shook his head, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Next time just order take out. It'll be safer for all of us."

.

.

 _finis_


	7. Some More Practice

A/N: It took three tries on this one before I had something I was even vaguely satisfied with. And I'm still not entirely thrilled with it, but I want/need to move on instead of staring at a blinking cursor in irritation with my muse glaring at me, tapping her toe, and glancing at her watch over and over again.

 **.**

 **Some More Practice**

.

 **Bingo #7** First Kiss

.

"Was that your first kiss since 1945?"

I hadn't lied to her with my response. I just hadn't exactly told the whole truth either. See, while I had expanded my kissing experiences since being woken up I had yet to instigate a single one of them. Not that I hadn't wanted for some of them, but I always chickened out.

Which meant... which meant I always let the girls... women take the lead. All right so some of them had been girls, if only in attitude, but I'd been young too. And... and for the first time in my life, the females of the species saw _me_. Their gaze no longer flitted past me as if I were invisible.

And, while I hate to say it, I didn't mind the attention. I mean I figured I'd be stuck dancing for bonds until the war ended, so why not, right?

Of course, then I'd done that USO tour. Met Peggy again. Played hero.

Won the war.

Least that's what the history books claim.

I'd disagree, but I would happily take the credit for destroying as much of Hydra as humanly or superhumanly possible.

Then I'd woken up to a brave new world that resembled nothing like the one I'd left decades behind me.

Only to discover that I hadn't changed all that much when it came to women no matter how many years had passed. So, once again, I waited on their pleasure. That way I could be certain of their interest.

Turned out to be plenty of interest, but not much connection. A few dates. A few hookups where I often left before the hint of false dawn even neared the sky. My partner of the moment not interested in breakfast together in the morning.

Then on the one occasion I'd screwed up my courage to ask a lady out it turns out she's my babysitter.

It had taken time for me to get over it. But I eventually understood and agreed with Fury's decision. In the end, after the breakup of SHIELD, I kept in contact with her, somewhat surprised she'd chosen the CIA over following Hill to Stark Industries even though I would have recommended her, presuming Hill hadn't tried to recruit her.

Maybe she thought I still held a grudge.

I didn't.

Not even when I discovered her relationship with Peggy. The Aunt she'd been talking to on my one and only attempt to ask her out.

I tried not to think about that too much.

If all hell hadn't broken loose while in London I probably would have tried again.

Probably.

Luckily, she seemed to be on my side or at least understanding of my decisions.

And throw her career under that proverbial bus all on my say so.

When we met under the bridge I knew it might be the last chance I got to see her outside of a jail cell. Not that I'd remain locked up for long, too boring.

I thanked her. Told her I owed her and then for the first time in my life I kissed the girl.

So, no, I hadn't lied to Nat that day.

Though, with Sharon, I wouldn't mind getting in some more practice.

.  
.

.

 _finis_


	8. Good Graces

Bingo #8 Miscommunication

 **.**

 **Good Graces**

.

Peggy shot me.

Okay, technically, at me, seemingly certain the shield working as it should and protect me.

And while I admit being dumb as a post when it comes to women even I had been able to figure out my mistake. She caught me with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar, kissing that blonde WAC.

Or, rather, being kissed by that lovely lady.

I had in no way been in a willing participant... mostly.

I'd much rather have been kissed by Peggy.

Not that probably would never happen. Not after that.

So, I fell back on what my mom had taught me about treating others and made certain to treat not only Peggy, but every woman I came in contact with, with complete and utter respect.

A lot of the women seemed confused by this behavior, especially given most of them were not used to being treated like an equal with a man. Even more so those who showed interest in me. I mean, not that I knew when someone flirted with me half... okay, most of the time, but I still ended a lot of encounters with the woman walking away with a decidedly confused look on her face.

I was doubly polite and deferential to Peggy, which seemed only seemed to make her angrier at me.

Angry to the point I damn near kissed Colonel Phillips to thank him for sending out on a mission.

I came back nearly a month later with a couple more Hydra bases dealt with only to discover that somehow I had made things worse?

The debrief had gone pretty much as expected even though Peggy's frown deepened every passing moment while at the same time the glare from her eyes aimed solely at me just seemed to get harsher and harsher. A damn good thing I had the so-called superpowers and not her else she'd have boiled my blood to steam just from the heat of her gaze.

I held steadfast and remained polite, treating her as I thought she should be. Not a hint of disrespect, or so I thought.

After yet another intel meeting that swiftly turned frosty between myself and Agent Carter, Howard stayed behind once the others had left, head tipped slightly as if trying to solve one of his math problems that couldn't be.

"What the devil is going on between you two?"

I ducked my head and mumbled, "What do you mean?"

He huffed out a breath of irritation. "That is not a woman you want angry with you." His arm shot out in the direction she had gone.

I snorted. "No kidding. I... I'm just not sure _why_ she's angry with me."

Howard's eyebrows shot up several inches. "The silent treatment you've been giving her might have something to do with it."

I blinked. "Silent treatment? I literally just discussed attack plans with her."

"No, you discussed attack plans with the team, not her. I don't think I've seen you say two words to _her_ in weeks." He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms over his chest waiting for an actual answer and making it clear he expected one.

But I didn't have one. At least not one I could articulate out loud. It just wasn't appropriate.

"Does this have to do with that blonde you kissed?"

My shoulders sagged, somewhat relieved he had figured it out. "She kissed me," I argued, mostly because it was the truth.

Howard chuckled while shaking his head. "You let her, that's all that matters to Peggy. And then you went and put up this self-righteous wall."

"What? No. I just wanted to make it clear to... to everyone that I had no interest in... in doing _that_ with them."

Howard's eyes widened. "You really don't understand women, do you?"

I shrugged, not about to admit that he was right. "I treat her as an equal."

"You're treating her as a tool. Yeah, you're polite as all hell, but she's not some automaton that just gives and takes orders. She's a person. A woman. Hell, a beautiful woman who can kick your ass across Europe and wants to right about now."

I couldn't argue that point. I hadn't spoken to her much outside the war room because... because I remained an idiot when it came to women. "How do I fix this?"

Howard nodded slowly. "Realizing there's an actual problem is a good place to start." He walked over and swung an arm around my shoulder. "First, drop the wall. You think you did nothing wrong, but, trust me, better to admit you screwed up than to make her any more irate. She's starting to take it out on the rest of us."

"But-"

"No buts. Yeah, I get it looks like a miscommunication, but as far as Peggy is concerned you kissed a girl that wasn't her."

I sighed heavily. "This is like that whole fondue thing, isn't it."

Howard patted me on the back. "Precisely. C'mon, I'll buy you drink and we'll plot how to get you back into her good graces, okay?"

"Sure. I mean it couldn't get much worse."

Howard stopped dead eyeing me as if looking for flaws in his most recent creation. "I can see I have a _lot_ of work to do."

.

.

 _finis_


	9. So you got into a fight

" _ **So you got into a fight."**_

 **.**

 **Bingo #9** "I never throw the first punch."

.

.

I heard laughter coming from the common room, so even though I had a meeting scheduled with Hill down on the tenth floor I detoured long enough to see what the devil had my teammates cacking like idiots. Before I could say a word, I heard my own voice coming out of the speakers.

" _So you failed your midterm_."

Utter dread settled into my belly and I stopped dead for a long moment debating the merits of just turning around and facing the music later or getting it over with now. I heaved a huge sigh and chose now, simply to avoid all the snickers and comments that would invariably occur later.

I found three of them huddled about a laptop, Clint, Nat, and Sam. It could have been worse, I supposed, they could have it up on the giant flat screen with half the staff watching as well. I could only be thankful that Tony had not been invited.

Then again he might have been the one to tell them about the damn videos.

"How'd you find them?"

The laughter stopped suddenly as a trio of heads snapped about to meet my eyes. Only Sam had the good graces to appear the tiniest bit guilty, though it didn't last for more than few seconds.

"The Internet never forgets," Clint answered around a mouthful of popcorn.

Far I as knew those videos had been saved to DVD and then distributed throughout the New York school system.

Nat took pity on me. "They uploaded them to the server for easier distribution. It took a twelve-year-old mere minutes to hack it and put them online for all to enjoy."

"How'd they talk you into wearing that suit?" Sam asked, the guilt gone to be replaced with amusement.

I sighed heavily. "After the Chitauri... They just wanted me to be recognizable. Given the Halloween costumes that came out that year..." I shrugged. "I refused to wear that damn thing into battle again."

"Well, Coulson told you he had input," Nat reminded, chuckling softly.

Christ, if he had chosen the colors I might I kill him myself. But he'd sacrificed himself in an attempt to stop Loki. I guess he couldn't be faulted for trying to bring back the memory of days gone past when Captain America had actually meant something. Had brought hope to a country embroiled in a war that had killed nearly an entire generation of men around the globe.

They clearly had it set for autoplay as the next video started up after a short silence. " _So you got into a fight_."

This one I remembered well. I had wanted to do this one, however, I had disagreed completely with the tone they desired to set. Yeah, the world had changed a lot since I'd gone for my long winter's nap, but I hadn't. They had needed me to play the pacifist, which seemed stupid given I'd just fought a damn battle in the middle of downtown New York.

They'd talked me into it for the kids.

Still, I'd made certain to get in a shot of my own at the end.

" _Unless it's alien invaders or Nazis I never throw the first punch, but when I have to I always make certain I throw the last_."

"Ooooooo. Bet they didn't like that." Sam all but howled in glee.

I shrugged, fighting the grin that wanted to spread across my face. They hadn't, but they also hadn't cut it from the video, so I guess we'd achieved a mutually agreeably standoff.

"They make the teachers stop it before you say that," Clint told me.

I couldn't say I was the least bit surprised. "Doesn't matter now, does it?" I waved at the video posted proudly to YouTube. "It's out there now."

Nat looked up at me, that sweet, secretive, _dangerous_ smile on her lips. "Yes, it is," she agreed. "Maybe, it's worth repeating."

Given the events of a few months ago that left both SHIELD and Hydra exposed perhaps she had a point.

"I'll think about it."

"You do that, Cap. In the meantime, care to join us?" Sam offered up the bowl of popcorn as if I needed a peace offering.

I grabbed a nearby chair, dragged it over and settled into it. I snagged a handful of popcorn and waved at the computer. "Let's do this."

.  
.

 _finis_


	10. Wingman

_**Wingman**_

 _._

Happy Steve Bingo #10 Supersoldier Healing

.

.

"On your left," I mumbled as I let my eyes drift back shut. I could only be thankful Sam appeared to be all right. I'd dragged him into this mess, I would have hated myself had he been hurt or worse in our efforts to stop Hydra.

I wanted to ask him how bad the fallout had been, but instead the need to fall back into unconsciousness and heal dragged me back into darkness.

However long later I jerked into awareness to find a stranger with dark hair hovering over me. I reacted by getting my hands up, one securing the potential danger the other curling into a fist prepared to land a potentially deadly strike.

"Whoa there, Cap."

I recognized that voice and my eyes shifted to see Sam, his hands attempting to hold mine back.

"It's just the doc. You're safe," he continued in a soothing tone. "You can let him go."

I sucked in a deep breath and opened the hand I had about the doctor's throat. "Sorry," I muttered, the fog I'd been swimming in blown away with the rush of adrenaline.

The doctor's hand went to his neck, rubbing the area as if to make certain I hadn't done any serious damage. "I should have known better, Captain Rogers. I'll be fine."

The need to hit something, to defend myself still pounded through me. Aided by the remnants of the dream I'd been experiencing prior to my sudden awakening. "Sam?"

"Right here, Cap." He appeared in my line of sight, looking only a little worse for wear. Some bruises I could see, but otherwise unharmed. "Nightmare?"

A guess on his part, but a good one. "Not exactly." Not a lie, really. I'd been reliving that final fight between me and Bucky, a fight I chose to lose at the end. Little wonder I'd woken up wired and so violently reactive.

Sam's eyes narrowed and I could tell we'd be having a more in-depth conversation once the doc had left us alone. "How's he doing, doc?"

"Amazing, actually, considering."

"Considering?"

"Shot twice, one of which could easily have been fatal. Stabbed and cut with an extremely sharp knife several times. Various bumps, bruises, and contusions including what appears to be a mild concussion, not to mention nearly drowning."

I shrugged, regretted it since it caused bright points of pain in several locations. "Healing factor," I reminded discovering that it hurt to talk thanks to an odd tightness on the left side of my mouth. I reached up to discover stitches and remembered the wild slash from Bucky that had done the damage.

"They're healing fine, we'll be removing them shortly."

"And when can I get out of here?"

"Jeez, Cap, take a break. You deserve it." Sam shook his head, but there was the hint of a grin at the corner of his lips.

"Did you catch him?" I had to know. Had to know if Bucky had gotten away.

He glanced over at the doc, clearly not wanting to speak in front of him. And Sam had a point. Our plan had been to out Hydra, but that didn't mean that every supported had been instantly revealed. Half the hospital staff could be part of Hydra and we would have no way of knowing. "Not yet."

I took the hint and said nothing else until the doc finished his examination. Including peeling back the gauze to look at the bullet wound through my abdomen. Even I was impressed by how much it had healed in the time I'd been here, which couldn't have been more than a couple of days at most.

"So, will he live?"

The doc smiled. "Yes. I'll have the nurse come in and remove those stitches, but I want you here overnight just in case."

I wanted to argue, but I didn't exactly have any place to go. My apartment presumably a crime scene and a damaged enough that it likely shouldn't be lived in during repairs. The Triskelion most likely off limits so I couldn't crash there either. "Okay."

The doc's eyebrows went up almost as high as Sam's. Both had clearly expected me to argue, but while I had concerns and questions I had enough sense to realize I wouldn't be able to get much done in my current condition so I took the advice I'd been given and accepted the break I needed.

Once the doc left Sam came closer. "You sure you're okay, man?"

I didn't really have an answer. I was alive, but I had no idea how that miracle had occurred. Last thing I remembered was hitting the water, after that nothing but darkness until waking up in this bed with Sam by my side. "I don't know," I finally answered. "Why didn't I drown?"

"Can you?" He pulled up a chair and settled into it. "Seventy years in ice, what's a little water in your lungs, right?"

I snorted, regretted it as various injuries showed their displeasure. "I might be able to hold my breath longer than most, but I still need to breathe eventually. Who pulled me out?"

"We don't know," Sam told me in a soft voice, eyes flicking over to the doorway as if to make certain we weren't overheard. "We didn't find you for a couple hours 'cause you were across the river."

"Nat and Fury okay?"

"Fine. Both are far more worried about you. Pierce is dead and Hydra members are being rounded up by every alphabet agency on the planet. You got the worst of it."

I waved at his face. "Looks like you took some hits."

"Yeah well, If Rumlow had talked less he might have gotten out of the building before the helicarrier hit it."

Christ, Rumlow too. Given he'd intended to kill all of us I found myself not as upset as I might have been. "Hill?"

"Fine. Organizing the shit out of everything. Anyone left from Hydra better run. I know I would."

I grinned. Hill was exceptionally good at her job. "And you. What are you doing next?"

"Me? Oh, I plan on sitting right here until they release you. You might get it into your head to go chasing down Hydra agents instead of taking the time to heal up. Though based on what I've seen you'll be back in fighting trim in less than a week. I gotta say I might have a serious case of Supersoldier envy right about now."

I laughed, unabashedly thankful he'd stuck by my side through all of this. "Thank you, Sam, but you don't have to stay. I'm sure you have stuff to do. People to help down at the VA."

"Seems like I have my hands full with a vet right here." He leaned forward to set a hand on my forearm. "Steve, I ain't going nowhere, so you might as well get used to me being your wingman."

I wanted to argue the point, but a nurse appeared in the doorway rolling a mayo tray covered in medieval torture items.

"Sutures?"

She nodded. "I'll be quick, I promise."

Sam grinned. "Take your time. Maybe he'll forget I just won the argument."

I smiled only to be admonished by the nurse. "Not until I have the stitches out, please."

"Yes, ma'am," I said while Sam laughed. All things considered, I had to admit to feeling pretty damn good.

 _._

 _._

 _finis_


End file.
